


Feathers of Red

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1516379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though it was nearly ten years ago, Pastor Jim still feels guilty about not being able to save Dean from his abusive father sooner. He's been longing for a chance to atone for the sin he feels guilty of committing. The opportunity comes on an assigned trip to England - and a girl named Amelia Talbot begs him for help through a confessional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers of Red

Guilt was a terrible thing.

Jim Murphy had spent months feeling guilty about never saving Dean Winchester from his father, and even after he learned where Dean had gone and that he was safe, the guilt remained. He felt guilty for never seeing it, never questioning it – and mostly, not stopping it. He'd watched, sharped eyed, for any sign of abuse on the younger Winchester, but Sam seemed to be untouched. He had his own doubts about that boy – and while he hated to be suspicious of a child, something never seemed quite right.

Then again, John Winchester was an asshole, so he could have been imagining things.

Of course, from what he saw, Sam was turning into his father. The same refusal to accept simple answers and wanting to know the absolute truth, and being stubborn to the point of irritation. 

His dealings with the Winchesters were all but over – and for that, Jim Murphy was thankful.

Since the death of the demon Azazel, things had grown quiet in the supernatural world. Monsters cropped up here and there, but the demonic activity was dormant and almost unheard of. While other hunters fretted and worried, Jim knew that things had grown far quieter after a hurricane last summer. It was as if the demons had vanished from the face of the earth, leaving only the normal monsters. 

Jim had to laugh at the idea of there being 'normal' monsters – but that was the way of things. 

It had gotten to the point where it was almost safe. But little tremors in the world told him that the demons leaving was part of something else – something larger that perhaps had been at stake and had been avoided. Confusing? Perhaps. Good? Most likely. Jim did what he always did. He counted his blessings and went on. 

Still, his failure on behalf of Dean Winchester weighed on him.

He promised himself that if he saw a whisper of what he saw in Dean's eyes in any other child's face, he would look into it. And since he made that promise, he hadn't seen it – and Jim counted that as a blessing.

Jim leaned back in the narrow confessional, coughing in the stuffiness. The Catholic faith still had some nice churches in England, they hadn't all been converted to a Protestant house of worship. He cleared his throat, blew his nose and slid the thin plank of wood aside, revealing the delicate wire mesh between him and the confessor. “Yes, my child?”

“I... I don't really know what to do... I'm uh, not Catholic and uh...” The girl sounded young and looking through the mesh, he could see the navy of the girl's school sweater, her face was hidden in her hair. 

He smiled tiredly. “Go ahead and speak, child. I'm here to listen, not make judgments.”

“I need help.” The girl moved and he could see her expression. A look of fear he had prayed and begged God he would never see on a child's face again after failing to see it on Dean's. “This.. you're my only hope here...”

“Take your time, child. I am in no hurry and the Heavenly Father is very patient as well.” He kept his hands clasped in his lap, doing his best to remain passive.

“I... I can't go to a teacher or someone – they think my parents are great. I can't go to my own church, the minister's a liar and thinks my parents are upstanding members of the congregation because they give a shitload of money... uh... guess I shouldn't say shit in church...” She gulped for air. “Uh, sorry...”

“Just try not to say it again, child. But if you forget, I understand.” He coughed, hating his allergies. 

“And uh... well, my dad's a lawyer and has lots of friends on the police force so it...” She whimpered and he felt his heart clench. “No one will believe me. The... the worst part is, when I told my mom what... what my dad was doing to me... she told me to... just endure it. Or stop leading him on, but I'm not!” Her voice cracked. “It's not my fault and no one will believe me!”

“I believe you.” Pastor Murphy took a breath. “And what has happened to you is not your fault. The sin was committed against you, not by you.”

“I have nowhere to go. My parents will just drag me back home and it will be worse than before.” The girl was almost in tears. “Please, can you...”

“I will do what I can.”

*

Amelia Talbot breathed a sigh of relief when she got home before her parents. True, they had gone out for the night, but she never knew just how late they would stay. The priest had told her to return to the church tomorrow. Granted, she was putting a lot of trust in a complete stranger, but compared to the people who were _supposed_ to be taking care of her – a stranger was better. She just hoped the neighbors wouldn't say anything to her parents. That was one of the last things she needed. At least tonight her father would come home to drunk to come into her room and molest her. 

One good thing.

She sat down at the kitchen table and tried to focus on her history textbook, although her mind was racing a million miles an hour. What was that priest thinking of doing? Well, at this point running off and hiding in a convent wouldn't be so bad. The doorbell ringing caused her to jump and she glanced at the clock over the stove before heading to the front door. It was nearly nine o'clock. Who'd be coming by this late? Amelia's heart started to pound when she looked through the glass and saw two uniformed officers standing there. She swallowed hard and opened the door, leaving the chain lock in place. “May I help you?”

“Miss Talbot?” The taller officer held out an ID, and she noted that the woman had a manicure. 

“Yes?” She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“There's been an accident. We need you to come down to the station.” The woman replied, her face stern.

“Let me get my jacket and keys.” She shut the door, feeling herself almost float towards the closet. An accident? Had that priest done something? No, he couldn't have – she hadn't told him who she was or who they were. 

**  
Jim Murphy returned to Blue Earth with a little more knowledge than he left with. The girl, now calling herself Bela, was safe. He had met the pagan goddess Kali, who was, as she said 'doing a favor for a friend' – and was now taking care of the child. She also didn't hold it against him that he didn't entirely trust her. She said she expected nothing less than a man who served another god. Kali wouldn't harm Bela. The goddess said the only people she was currently a danger to was those who harmed innocent girls and women. 

She then said something about atonement he didn't quite understand, but he didn't question her further.

Two weeks after he returned home, a postcard came to him bearing unfamiliar handwriting. It had the Sydney Opera House on the front. Scrawled on the back was just the word 'Thanks' and the name Bela. He tucked the postcard in with his letters and photographs that Dean sent him from time to time. 

Dean was safe. Bela was safe.

And Jim's guilt about Dean was gone.


End file.
